


Seed of Life

by chiiyo86



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Book 3: The Mark of Athena (Heroes of Olympus), Dreamsharing, M/M, Non-Consensual, Oral Sex, Seduction, Sex Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-05-13 18:12:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19256485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiiyo86/pseuds/chiiyo86
Summary: As Percy and the seven are on their way to save Nico and the city of Rome, Percy is visited in a dream by Hera, who tells him that Nico doesn't have as much time left as they'd assumed. Fortunately, the goddess knows of a way for Percy to help the son of Hades survive longer.





	Seed of Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rirren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rirren/gifts).



> You had so many fun prompts that it was hard to choose one! Hopefully you'll enjoy my take on this one. :)

Dreaming as a demigod was always an adventure. Sometimes you dreamed normal brain junk, bits and pieces of the day’s events or crazy, nonsensical sequences where you were chased by a mouse running on a wheel of cheese. But you could also have dreams of a prophetic nature, messages from various entities that could dreamwalk, or voyeur dreams, as Percy liked to call them, where you found yourself randomly spying on someone else, your dream self wandering around like a ghost. Percy’s current dream was of the latter sort. It wasn’t the first time he’d had this particular dream and he only needed a few seconds to take in the various elements—the narrow, circular space, contained by a bronze wall that curved outward and was marked by four vertical scratches, the dark Stygian iron sword whose purple glow was the only source of light, and of course, the pale, thin boy who sat huddled with his eyes closed.

“Nico,” Percy said, even though he knew that Nico couldn’t hear him. “Hold on, Nico. We’re coming for you. You just have to hold on for a little longer.”

The purple light from the sword wasn’t doing Nico any favor. It made his face look sallow and gaunt, accentuating shadows in a way that gave him an uncanny resemblance to the skeletons he conjured. Watching him, Percy felt as if he’d swallowed something pointy and it was poking at the inside of his stomach. The last time they’d seen each other was at Camp Jupiter, where Nico had pretended that he was a son of Pluto and that they didn’t know each other. Percy could still see him say with a perfect poker face, “Nice to meet you. I’m Nico di Angelo.” Percy didn’t know why Nico had lied, but it wasn’t the first time he’d done it and that was an uncomfortable thought. Still, it was hard to hold on to anger when Nico looked so frail, so weak, the space inside the jar echoing with the raspy sound of his breathing. 

“You’re going to be too late to save him.”

The unexpected voice took Percy by surprise. There wasn’t any room for another person beside Nico in the jar, not to mention that this was _his_ dream. When he turned around, looking for whoever had spoken, Percy saw that his surroundings had changed and that it looked like he was back in his cabin on the _Argo II_. He could tell this was still a dream, though. Someone was sitting at his feet on the edge of his berth, a tall, dark-haired woman who held herself like she expected everyone she met to drop on their knees in subservience. She was right to expect it, because she was Queen of Olympus.

“Hera,” Percy said, gnashing his teeth. “What are you doing in my dream?”

“I didn’t have any other way to talk to you,” Hera said. “Things have been a little… difficult, lately.”

“Yeah, I heard that the other gods have kicked you out of Olympus.”

“They haven’t _kicked_ me out!” Hera exclaimed, her eyes flashing dangerously—and since she was a goddess, this wasn’t just a figure of speech. “I have—”

“—accomplished a dignified retreat?”

“You’re a very insolent boy, son of Poseidon.” 

“You’re more than welcome to get out of my head.”

Some would have said that Percy was suicidal to antagonize such a powerful goddess. But Percy had already tired of Hera’s shit a couple of years back, was still grumpy from his dream about Nico in the jar, and besides, this wasn’t the first time he’d mouthed off to the goddess and it probably wouldn’t be the last. She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t need him for something. She might her get her revenge on him for offending her later, when her position was stronger, but eh—live fast, die young, right?

Hera narrowed her eyes, looking for a moment as though she wanted to blow up at him, before her features smoothed into a cool, calculated expression. “You don’t want me to tell you how you can help your friend hold on a little longer, then.”

“What do you mean? Nico has those pomegranate seeds, right?” Percy said, although his insides had twisted at Hera’s words. “He still has four of them. We’ll be there before four days have passed and we’ll save him.”

“You don’t have as much time as you think to rescue him,” Hera said in that infuriating cryptic way that the gods loved so much. “If you continue as you planned, he’ll be dead before you can reach him.”

“How can we get there faster?”

“I can’t help you with that, but I can tell you of a way to help Nico di Angelo survive until you get to him.”

“Since when do you care about what happens to Nico?” Percy asked, lifting his chin in challenge. “I remember a time when you would have let him be sold off to the Titans.”

“Circumstances change, Percy Jackson. The son of Hades has a role to play in things to come.”

“Yeah, because he knows where the Doors of Death are— _‘the key to endless death’_. Am I wrong? He’s just a tool to you.”

“Don’t you get snippy with me. Isn’t that the reason _you_ want to save him? Because the prophecy mentioned that he could help?”

Percy had nothing to reply to that, because he and his friends had indeed discussed Nico’s rescue in pretty utilitarian terms. It had felt reasonable to think about it pragmatically rather than emotionally, but coming from Hera it sounded cold and uncaring. Percy didn’t want to be like that, to be like _her_.

“I would’ve gone to save him even without the prophecy,” he said, clenching his fists.

“Then you’ll listen to what I have to say. The son of Hades is dying; that’s a fact. He will be dead in two days.”

“ _Two_ days!” If this conversation had taken place out of a dream, Percy would have worried about waking up the others with his shouting. “But he still has four seeds!”

“The more he uses them, the less efficient they are. Four seeds will only help him for two days. After that, he’s dead.”

A block of ice weighed down Percy’s stomach. His dream hands gripped his dream sheet. “But… What—what can I do to help?”

Hera’s slow smile held a hint of triumph, as if all she’d wanted was for him to get to that point. “The seeds are from the Underworld. They can only help Nico muster a simulacrum of life. What he needs is to be injected with true vitality—another demigod’s seed will do quite well for that purpose.”

“A demigod— _what_? What does that even mean?”

“Oh, don’t play the innocent with me. You know what I mean, boy. I mean semen, of course. _Your_ semen, in that scenario.”

“I—what—” Percy covered his burning face with his hands, pressing his palms against his eyelids. “Okay, there’s a lot to unpack here. When you say that Nico needs to be injected with semen, you mean—”

“I mean sex, obviously. Oral or anal, depending on what you’re comfortable with.”

“Just checking,” Percy muttered. Even knowing that no one could hear them, this felt like a conversation that should be conducted in whispers. “How am I supposed to have, um, to have _sex_ with Nico? He’s stuck in a jar, thousands of miles away from me!”

“Through his dreams. As a son of Hades, Nico is comfortable in the liminal space occupied by dreams, and this is where his mind has retreated while his body is in a death trance.”

“If we do this in a dream, it’s not going to be real.”

“Trust me, it will be real enough.”

The way she said it made Percy’s stomach flip. “I haven’t agreed to this,” he said. “Even if I can access Nico’s dreams, how can I—how should—I can’t just jump him and _rape_ him! And I’d be cheating on Annabeth, and—”

“Listen to me, boy.” Hera was suddenly closer to him without having moved. Her face, perfect like a marble statue’s, glowed unnaturally in the semi-darkness of Percy’s cabin. The air became heavy, so thick that Percy’s lungs strained to take a breath. “Your scruples are honorable. I certainly don’t approve of cheating. But if you don’t do it, Nico di Angelo _will_ die, and with him any hope that you might have to save the world from Gaia.”

“How am I going to get Nico to agree to this?”

Hera moved away and the pressure disappeared. “You’re a handsome boy,” she said, making it sound like the opposite of a compliment. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to be persuasive.”

“I guess I could just tell him the truth,” Percy said, although the thought made him queasy. _Hey, Nico! So, good news: I have a way to help you. Bad news is, you have to let me fuck you or maybe just suck my dick._

“I would advise against it,” Hera said.

“What? Why?”

“Right now Nico is in a very fragile state. If you startle or upset him, you’ll lose your connection to him and you won’t get another chance.”

“Well, won’t he be _startled_ if I just… you know?”

Hera rolled her eyes, a gesture that made her look younger and less regal. “ _Persuade_ him, I said. Seduction, boy. Have you ever heard of it? Young men, these days.”

“No amount of seduction is going to make Nico let a dude have his way with him.”

“You won’t know until you try.” 

Something about Hera’s tone gave Percy the feeling that she knew something he didn’t. He opened his mouth to ask about it, but obviously Hera had decided that the conversation was over, or maybe something had caught her attention elsewhere, because she vanished before he could. Percy found himself starting at the blank, metallic wall of his cabin. Hera was gone and he was left alone with his questions.

He sighed, combing his fingers through his hair and giving it a little tug. “How am I supposed to get in touch with Nico?” he murmured to himself.

Hera had said something about Nico having a particular affinity with dreams. If Percy called for him while he was still dreaming, would Nico be able to hear him? They’d always had a connection of some sort, if the fact that Percy kept dreaming about him was any indication. 

“Well, it’s worth a shot. Nico! Nico, can you hear me? Nico!”

As he called Nico’s name, Percy pictured him in his mind as clearly as he could. The first image that came to him was of Nico wasting away in the jar, but it made Percy feel sick so he pushed it at the back of his mind. Instead he remembered Nico wearing a black toga at the senate meeting in Camp Jupiter. He’d looked poised and mature in that outfit—Percy had lost his memories of a hyper ten-year-old Nico at the time and he’d barely realized that Nico was a few years younger than him. To him, Nico di Angelo, ambassador of Pluto, had been an powerful, mysterious demigod who had intrigued him very much. Of course, he’d later understood that the mysterious vibe had come from the fact that Nico had been lying to his face.

“Percy? What are you doing here?”

Percy didn’t jump, but it was only because years of dangerous and unpredictable situations had given him a tight control over himself. Nico was sitting next to him on the bed. He wore the t-shirt, jeans and aviator jacket that his real body did in the jar, but his face didn’t look quite as pale and emaciated. Despite his healthier look, Percy thought he had a fragile quality to him, as if blowing too hard in his direction could snuff him like a candle.

“Technically, you’re in my dream,” Percy said.

“Am I?” Nico looked around him, his brow furrowing. “Where are we? What’s this room?”

“We’re in the _Argo II_. It’s, uh, it’s a flying ship. Leo Valdez made it.”

“Who’s Leo Valdez?”

“Oh, I guess you haven’t met him yet. He’s a new guy, a son of Hephaestus. Pretty handy with a wrench. We’re coming to save you—me and a few others. Hazel and Frank, and Annabeth, with two other people you don’t know.”

“Why would people I don’t know come to save me? Oh, right. I found the Doors of Death.”

The unemotional, matter-of-fact way he’d said it, as though he wouldn’t expect people to care about him beyond how useful he was, made Percy’s heart clench hard, as if a fist had closed around it. 

“Your sister is worried sick about you,” he said. “I’m worried too. I’ve been seeing you in my dreams—in the jar. You look, uh, pretty bad.”

Nico’s shoulder tensed and he looked away. “It’s all right, as long as I’m in a trance.”

“But you have to wake up to eat the seeds. This must be—”

“It’s _fine_.”

“Do you know how long you can hold on?” Percy asked, perversely curious to see if Nico was aware of how little time he had.

“I have four seeds left. One seed has lasted me a day so far, so I guess I’ll be all right for four more days.”

He might have been lying, but he didn’t have any reason to. Percy’s stomach rolled at the thought that _Hera_ may have been the one to lie to him about Nico dying in two days. Why would she do that, though? Percy didn’t see what she would have to gain from he and Nico having sex in a dream. This didn’t make sense, and as much as Percy didn’t like Hera, at least it seemed very unlikely that she’d side with Gaia. And if there was any chance at all that what she’d say to Percy was true, then he had to do it. He couldn’t risk Nico’s life on a vague suspicion. 

“What is it?” Nico asked, wrenching Percy out of his thoughts. 

“Ah, nothing. We’ll be there in four days, Nico. We won’t let you die.”

“Okay,” Nico said, bowing his head, but not fast enough to stop Percy from seeing that his pale cheeks had colored. 

A long moment of silence dragged on. Percy knew what he had to do, but he couldn’t figure out how to get there. He could feel his forehead prickle with beads of sweat, his palms getting slick with it. How should he go about seducing Nico? How did seducing someone even work? He hadn’t done anything special to seduce Annabeth; she had just happened to be charmed by his usual self for some mad reason. Thinking about Annabeth led to the thought that it would probably have been easier for Annabeth to sweep Nico off his feet, if they were right about Nico having a crush on her. But then again, on second thought—or maybe third, at this point—Percy really didn’t want to think about Annabeth seducing Nico. He didn’t even want to be doing it himself.

“So, uh,” he said. “You went to Tartarus. That must have been—” _Smooth, Percy, real smooth. Remind him of the nightmarish place he just went through. That will certainly turn his crank!_

Predictably, Nico went rigid, his hands gripping the edge of Percy’s bed, fingers white at the knuckles. “I don’t particularly want to talk about it.”

“No, of course not. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

It didn’t look okay. Nico was staring at the floor, and his face was partially concealed from Percy by his hair but his breathing had started to sound heavy, as if Nico was trying too hard to get it under control. All thoughts of what he was attempting flew Percy’s mind, leaving behind a sour feeling of guilt for having triggered a bad memory and an urge to make it better. Without thinking about it, he rested a hand on Nico’s shoulder. 

He felt the shoulder stiffen and Nico’s breathing did a weird little hitch. Belatedly, it occurred to Percy that touching Nico should have been the first step in his master seduction plan, and that he should be taking advantage of the fact that Nico had yet to punch him in the face. Instead he was seized by the worst case of stage fright ever, his nerves jangling like someone was playing the mandolin with them. He hadn’t been this nervous the first time he’d had sex with Annabeth, even though that had been pretty nerve-wracking too—but of course, the difference was that they’d both been into it. Another thought hit him: all this time he’d worried about seducing Nico, but for Hera’s plan to be implemented, _Percy_ was the one who would really need to get it up. If he couldn’t get into the right mood, then the whole thing was pointless. Nico wasn’t a bad-looking guy—well, Percy didn’t feel qualified to decide on a guy’s degree of attractiveness, but there was nothing wrong with the way Nico looked. He was a little too pale and thin, but his hair looked nice, silky like a raven’s wings, and he’d grown during the period when Percy had lost his memory. He didn’t look like a young kid anymore.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Nico said, his voice a little hoarse. 

He sounded wary, but his voice also held a hint of… Percy couldn’t put his finger on it—a hint of fear, was the closest word he could think of, although it wasn’t quite the right one. The shoulder under Percy’s palm hadn’t relaxed at all, so Percy moved his hand until it was cupping the back of Nico’s neck. Holding his breath, he started kneading the muscles between Nico’s neck and his shoulders. At first the muscles felt like a block of concrete, but Percy applied more pressure, patiently keeping at it until he could feel them loosen up. Nico wasn’t moving at all, wasn’t even saying anything. His head was down and Percy couldn’t read his face, although he could hear his breathing, loud but steady. Little by little, Nico’s shoulders drooped.

 _Step two, I guess._ Percy had no plan and was just completely wringing it, but he knew at least that he needed to erase the distance between them. Very slowly, trying not to startle Nico, he inched closer until their thighs and knees almost touched. Nico took in a sharp breath and raised his head, glancing at Percy between his bangs.

“What are you doing?” he asked. He had tensed again, the muscles hardening under Percy’s hand.

“Nothing. I just—I feel bad about not being able to do anything for you.”

“You said you were coming to save me.”

“Yeah, but I would like to be able to do something for you now. Just to help you feel better. That jar looks awful. I really don’t like tight spaces so it feels—” Percy shuddered at the memory of what the inside of the jar looked like.

“I didn’t mind tight spaces,” Nico murmured, eyes staring straight ahead at nothing. The past tense implied that he minded it _now_ , not that this was a surprise; anyone would start getting claustrophobic from being trapped in a place where they couldn’t stand up or stretch their legs. 

“Sorry for bringing it up,” Percy said, giving Nico’s neck a squeeze. “You don’t have to think about it right now. We can pretend you’re really here with me on the _Argo II_ instead of there. Just for a moment. Just—” His voice lowered a fraction as he carefully leaned against Nico’s side, pressing their bodies together, from calves to knees to thighs to hips to shoulders. “—think of it as a nice dream.”

He expected Nico to bolt, because he was as tense as a dead body that had been hit with rigor mortis. But Nico held himself still; he wasn’t looking at Percy but Percy could see that his cheeks had reddened. Did the lack of a reaction mean that Nico was afraid of what Percy was going to do, or uncertain, or did it mean that he was okay with the closeness but didn’t know how to relax into it? His hands were laid on his lap, closed into loose fists. _Seduction, boy._ Struck by inspiration, Percy took one of Nico’s wrists, turned it around and prompted Nico to uncurl his fingers by massaging the center of his palm with a thumb. Nico’s rapid pulse thrummed under his touch. Once the fingers had opened, Percy lifted the hand to his mouth, his own heart beating in his throat.

“What are you—” Nico started, but his sentence broke into a choking sound when Percy’s lips grazed the inside of his wrist. 

The skin inside Nico’s wrist felt smooth to Percy’s lips. He kept his touch light as a feather, brushing his way up to Nico’s palm and then dropping a kiss there. He held Nico’s hand against his mouth, kissing it again, watching for Nico’s reaction. Nico wasn’t trying to snatch his hand back, but he started shaking and Percy stopped, brought to a standstill. He’d assumed that if he did something Nico disliked he would be pushed away immediately. He’d expected violence and outrage, for Nico to draw a dream version of that huge-ass sword of his and make Percy regret his actions. But Nico was only fourteen—it was very possible that he simply didn’t know how to react to what Percy was doing. 

Percy lowered Nico’s hand but didn’t release his grip. “Nico?” he called gently. “Are you okay?”

Nico chewed his bottom lip, his face flushed and his chest heaving. “I don’t know what you’re doing,” he said, a plaintive note to his voice. “I must be dreaming. You’re not really there.”

“No, I’m really there.”

“This is just one of those dreams,” Nico said, shaking his head. “The real Percy would never do that.”

Wait—‘ _one of those dreams?’_ What did that mean? How often did Nico dream about Percy acting inappropriately handsy? Before Percy had the time to follow this thought to its conclusion, Nico lunged forward and kissed him hard on the mouth.

_What the—_

So, Percy’s operation of seduction seemed to have been effective. _Very_ effective, in a way that he hadn’t expected at all and which raised interesting questions, but he didn’t have much spare room in his brain to ponder them as Nico’s mouth moved inexpertly over his, his lips cool but soft. As the initial shock wore off, Percy started kissing back. He guided Nico into a gentler, more sensual kiss, something less forceful and frantic. Although Nico kept their lips locked, he seemed hesitant to touch Percy anywhere else except for the hand he had on his shoulder, so Percy looped an arm around his waist and pulled him closer. He used his other hand to push himself backward until his shoulders hit the wall, dragging a pliant Nico along and then arranging him over his lap. When Percy rubbed a hand down his back, Nico shivered but didn’t try to move away. When Percy’s tongue licked his lower lip, he opened his mouth eagerly, welcoming him in. Percy let his hands roam over Nico’s back, his sides, his chest. Nico’s waist and hips didn’t curve the way Annabeth’s did, and no breasts swelled the front of his t-shirt. He was hard and bony, his elbows and knees pointy and his hipbones sharp-edged. But each of Percy’s touches was met with shivers, little gasps, hitches in his breathing. Percy fondled Nico’s chest and felt his nipples harden to little nubs through the fabric of his t-shirt. Nico shifted on Percy’s lap and for a moment all of his weight crushed Percy’s thigh, before he changed positions again and Percy could feel a bulge against his hip, the unmistakable shape of an erection. 

_Gods in Olympus._ Percy’s brain short-circuited at the feeling, and his hands stopped moving, stilling on Nico’s hips. Panic rose inside him, a fretful, desperate fear that he was way in over his head. He had a very turned-on Nico in his lap, and even though this had been the plan all along he suddenly wasn’t sure he could go through with it. He felt shaky, too hot and not in control anymore of what was happening.

He must have frozen for a second too long, because Nico stopped kissing him and drew back. “Is something wrong?” he asked. 

“No, I’m, uh.” 

Percy had never looked at Nico so closely and the sight derailed his train of thought for a moment. Nico’s eyelashes were long and thick, and his flush had spread over his cheeks and down his throat in blotchy spots. His hair was mussed, sticking in odd directions. Deep shadows were smudged under his eyes, marks of exhaustion, of Nico’s resilience been slowly chipped away. He was going to die if Percy didn’t help him. He would die alone, trapped, a prisoner at the hands of the enemy. 

“I think I want to blow you,” Percy said, his voice pitched too high. 

He was back into planning mode, at least as much as he ever was. For Hera’s plan to work, Percy should be the one ejaculating into Nico, but it seemed rude to just ask Nico for a blowjob. If Percy did it first, he reasoned, then maybe Nico would want to reciprocate, or at least it would make it easier for Percy to ask for it. 

Nico gaped at him, then stuttered, “I, uh. Yes, yes, gods, _yes_. I just, let me—”

Nico rose to his knees, trembling hands going to his belt buckle. Percy reached out to help, his warm fingers bumping into Nico’s cold ones. Opening Nico’s jeans with him felt unbearably intimate and Percy’s heart pulsed in his temples, in his eyes, in his lips, in the tips of his fingers and between his legs. Nico wore black boxer shorts and he cupped a hand over his hard-on, a shy gesture that made Percy’s lungs flutter. He moved awkwardly to his knees to crawl between Nico’s legs, feeling constricted in his jeans. Glancing down he saw that, amazingly, he was starting to get hard too, his body responding to the general mood, to Nico’s need, or to Nico himself, who knew— _Percy_ didn’t know, in any case, but he had to see this through and would have all the time to think about what it meant later.

“Wait,” Nico said as Percy planted his hands on each sides of his hips. “Wait. I think I—I think that I want to blow you too. Can we do it at the same time? Is that okay?”

This plan was going so much better than Percy could have hoped. The thought contracted his stomach, making it churn with a mix of arousal and nausea. It was going great because Nico _wanted_ this; he wanted it because, as was becoming painfully clear, he _liked_ Percy. And Percy was taking advantage of it, even if it was to save his life and the whole world with it.

“Yeah,” he said weakly. “Yeah, that sounds awesome.”

They shuffled around for a moment until they settled on their sides, facing each other’s crotches. Percy’s fingers shook as he tugged down the elastic band of Nico’s underwear, reaching inside and pulling Nico’s dick out. He swallowed; if a body part could be intimidating, then Nico’s penis was. Not because it was particularly big—as far as Percy could tell, its size was pretty average for someone Nico’s age. But it was hard, red and leaking, and Percy was going to put it in his mouth. He was going to suck Nico’s dick and make him come.

He could feel Nico’s hands fumble with his jeans but decided to ignore it. Never mind the plan and Hera’s theory about vitality or whatever, Percy was going to make Nico feel good. He could at least do that for him before everything else came crashing down over their heads. _Okay, then do it, you coward._ There was a little flap of skin that folded over the tip of Nico’s dick—of course, Nico wouldn’t be cut. Percy stuck his tongue out and gave it a lick, curiosity mitigating his nervousness. Nico’s hips jerked and his hands stopped pulling down Percy’s zipper.

“Okay?” Percy asked.

“It’s a little too, um,” Nico said, his voice quivering. “It felt weird.”

“Too sensitive?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I won’t do it again.”

Percy gave Nico’s dick another hard stare, licked his lips and then took the tip in his mouth. Nico’s hips moved again but Percy held them back with a hand, forcing Nico to keep still so he could control how much he took in. Slowly, he tilted his head until he had half of Nico’s dick in his mouth. It felt bigger inside, a sensation of _full_ that made Percy’s breath catch. He was distracted for a moment from the weight of Nico’s cock on his tongue by the feeling of Nico’s cold fingers slipping inside his underwear. Nico gave Percy’s shaft a few pumps and in no time, Percy was fulling hard and had to stop himself from fucking into Nico’s fist. Then he felt Nico’s tongue against him, his lips, the inside of his mouth, wet and hot, and the pleasure that sparked in his lower belly almost made him snap his teeth on Nico’s dick. A feverish blush spread from his face to the rest of his body and he breathed in harsh pants through his nose. He took more of Nico’s dick inside his mouth, almost choked on it and then pulled away a little. Nico was sucking harder on him, making small gasping sounds that stiffened Percy’s dick, bypassing his brain to go straight to his groin. He wrapped his hand around the base of Nico’s dick, jerking him off at the same time he blew him. A higher-pitched sound and Nico’s dick twitching were the only warnings that Nico was coming.

Percy couldn’t avoid getting some of Nico’s come in his mouth, but the texture felt gross and he immediately spat it out on the bed—this was a dream, so he didn’t have to worry about getting the sheets dirty. Forming a thought was like trudging through molasses and it was just occurring to Percy that it would be bad if Nico spat out _his_ come, when he felt something wet and warm touch his one of his balls. He gasped, pressing his face against Nico’s hip, and his orgasm shot through him with no hope of containing.

When he tried to sit up afterward, his arms felt wobbly and he sagged against the wall. Nico was sitting up too, wiping his mouth. It looked like he’d swallowed, and the thought made Percy’s face burn, a flicker of lust sparking at the pit of his stomach. _Well, mission accomplished._ There was no triumph behind that realization. He just felt tired, despite being asleep, and hollow, emptied of all energy and feelings except for a troubled sense of disgust with himself. 

“Something’s not right,” Nico said. He sounded dazed, but it was hard for Percy to focus on him because with his tousled hair, his flushed face and his jeans gaping open, it was way too obvious that he’d just had sex. “I’ve never had dreams before that went that far. I should have woken up by now. Percy? You’re—”

Percy wished he would wake up. He wished he could pretend that this had really been just a dream—a very vivid, terribly hot dream—and that he could make himself believe it too. But this was the coward way out, and Nico was too sharp to fall for it anyway. Percy could feel Nico’s dark eyes trained on him and could almost hear the wheels spin in his mind.

“You’re really here,” Nico said.

Percy forced himself to look at him before he said, “I’m here.”

“But why—” Nico’s entire face turned crimson. His hand rose to his face and his fingers brushed his lips, then he seemed to realize what he was doing and hurriedly dropped his hand. “I don’t understand. You’re dating Annabeth and you don’t—You haven’t broken up with Annabeth, have you?”

“No, I’m dating Annabeth.”

“Even if we’re dreaming, it’s still real.”

The accusation in his tone was like a punch in the face. Nico was right, of course—Percy couldn’t claim that this hadn’t happened just because they were in some sort of dream space. He couldn’t say that this didn’t count as cheating. As Hera had said, it had _felt_ real enough. Annabeth might forgive him once he’d explained his reasons, but it still counted. Nico also deserved an explanation, because the only way to make this even more of a mess than it already was would be to lead him on. 

Percy cleared his throat. “I wanted to help you. You have every right to hate me, of course—I won’t blame you if you do—but you have to believe me. I really just wanted to help.”

“How exactly was this helping me?” All color had drained from Nico’s face. Shadows were pooling around him in long, withering ribbons of darkness that wrapped themselves around his arms and legs. “Can you explain that, Percy?”

If one of them had power in this dream, it would be Nico, but the possibility of getting hurt by an enraged son of Hades didn’t even worry Percy much. All he felt was a numb sort of exhaustion.

“Earlier in the night,” he said, “I got a little visit from Hera.”

He explained everything to Nico, from Hera’s prediction that Nico only had two days to live to her plan to stall the inevitable. Nico listened to him without saying anything, his pale face locked into a stony expression. 

“Do you feel any different?” Percy asked once he was finished, hoping at least to have the confirmation that he hadn’t messed everything up.

Nico turned his face away. “Get out.”

“Nico, I—”

“If you can get to me in time, then I’ll tell you where the Doors of Death are. Don’t worry.”

“That’s not why I—” Percy started to say, but he stopped himself when he saw Nico wipe his eyes and nose with the back of his hand. 

“Go away,” Nico said in a choked voice.

“I’m sorry,” Percy said, feeling his throat close up. “I’m really sorry.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and commanded himself to wake up. Vertigo hit him for a second, a feeling as though he were dropping down an abyss. He opened his eyes to the exact same place he’d dreamed about, his room in the _Argo II_ , except that he could hear the distant humming from the ship’s engine and he was tucked inside the bed, the sheets scratchy against his skin. The front of his pajamas was crusted with drying come on the inside—it looked like he’d actually orgasmed in real life too. It would be a very bad time for Annabeth to sneak into his room again.

Percy threw an arm over his eyes, letting his tears wet the crook of his elbow.


End file.
